What If
by POHTAYTOH
Summary: The same nice skin, the same way of walking, the same blush, the same ginger feline in her hands – it was her. Her hair wasn't bushy, like that in her early years in Hogwarts. Oliver vocally cursed the impeccable timing. Of all the days to show up completely out of the blue, fate picked that day and he particularly picked the best Gaelic curse to match the scenario. "Oi, Hermione!"


**Hey, guys!**

**I really hate that its Sunday today (in my country tho), and that Mondays come after Sundays.**

**Gah, I don't wanna go to school yet. Lemme shleep.**

**Anyway, here's a fic for you!**

**Title: What If**

**Pairings: Oliver-Hermione; Seamus-Ginnny **(I actually think Seam and Gin would be cute together)

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"I don't know, Seam."

"Come on, Gin. It'll be fine. I know from the bottom of me' belly that you can do it."

Thanks to his peripheral vision, Oliver swiftly glanced at the couple sitting beside his barstool.

Finnigan and the twins' youngest sister.

_'What's her name again? ...Jenny... I think it's Jenny.'_

He loosened his old Gryffindor scarf.

It was freezing cold outside the pub, not that he wasn't used to the crisp chill air of December.

It was just that in The Woodland, the Wood clan compound, four-foot-tall bonfires were set up from the first tinge of winter. That way, even the streets were kept warm and well-lit throughout the Christmas season.

His mum was meeting up with a couple of old friends at Hogsmeade, which explained his being there.

It was a family tradition that the eldest son of each home would shoulder the obligation of representing his household in all family affairs. In simpler terms, they were the ever-presents.

His mum's reunion with her Hogwarts classmates though, didn't really fall under the 'family affairs' category. So instead of following six middle-aged women around Hogsmeade, he found himself sitting in the pub, with a nice steaming mug of butterbear in his hands. Besides, he didn't fancy the idea of being trapped in a conversation about knitting while the matriarchs picked the best wool for their holiday sweaters in Hogsmeade's most famous fabric shop.

"Aye, just go for it, princess." Seamus swept a stay lock of ginger hair away from Ginny's face.

He smirked. "Besides, I don't think you'll get through the 'what if' stage if ever you let this slip off yer hands."

Oliver didn't mean to eavesdrop. He shrugged the shame off, thinking _'They're awfully near. It's not my fault.'_

He did pick up though, that the two were conversing about 'What if' stages and Chaser try-outs. Apparently, the youngest redhead was planning to join The Harpies next year.

Oliver had already seen her fly. Numerous times, he thought silently. Back when he and the twins were still far from busy and their stressful careers, they played Quidditch over at the Burrow on Thursdays. _Jenny_ was a really good chaser. 'It's a sure pass,' he thought.

Her brothers couldn't even knock her off her broom as she zoomed across the pitch, quaffle grasped in leather-gloved hands.

But of course, he was lord of the quidditch hoops and even _Jenny_'s strongest throw couldn't pass his defense.

"Hey, I don't always think of the what ifs."

"Yes, you do. All the time, Gin. I usually stop counting after ten but I believe each time you start a train, you always end up enumerating over fifty 'what ifs'."

Oliver mentally scoffed. He knew how the lad felt.

The redhead scrunched her eyebrows together, which made her freckles look like her blushing nose was magnetically drawing the tiny dots to the middle of her face as a tinge of denial and hurt welled up inside her.

"Seamus, I do no-"

The equally freckly Irish boy raised one of his big palms to his face in mock frustration. "Wait."

"I never said it was bad, okay?" Dropping the facepalm, he smiled and shook his head. "You know, I've been trying to convince you to just try for the past..." He paused to glance at his watch. "four bloody hours." He slouched down on the counter.

"Besides, I don't find your what ifs annoying at all. You seriously think something as simple as that would annoy me after enduring two years of your rejection before you finally said yes? It just gets tiring sometimes." He raised a single eyebrow at her. "Just try, carrot top." He swatted her nose with his finger.

"There will only be two outcomes if you do." He showed her two fingers to emphasize his point. "That is, either you get in the team, you'll run to the common room and knock me off the couch with the good news, and I'll be the one to say 'I told you so.' or-"

"-or I get rejected."

Seamus rolled his blue eyes. "You know what, like what I've been trying to tell you for the past four bloody hours, princess, JUST TRY." His tone was exasperated.

"At least by trying, you'll get half a good possibility and half the other. If you don't, then you'll be stuck with the other option that you obviously don't want. I, as your handsome, caring, loving, smart, intelligent, funny, charming-"

Ginny glared at him.

Clearing his throat, Seamus continued, "-explosive...boyfriend, will be deprived of sleep yet again for the next days, probably because I would obviously stay up late just to calm you down while you're in the middle of an emotional outrage during your 'what if' stage."

He sighed and leaned in to give his girlfriend a kiss on the temple. "Just try. Just try or you'll never know."

Oliver bowed his head and turned to leave the pub without a word, consciously leaving his half emptied mug of butterbeer on the polished counter. The walk to the door was so silent it was deafening. His eardrums felt numb and of no use at that moment. The sound of his shoes trudging on the ankle-deep snow was what pulled him back to reality. He looked back – the pub was a good distance away. People were surrounding him in the middle of the town square.

'Merlin, I've been screwed.'

It had been a year since _she _walked away from the Wood clan reunion. Reliving the memory made Oliver feel stupid. The entire memory was stupid, in his opinion, and he particularly wanted to _Obliviate_ it away but he knew that it'd be even more stupid to do so. She should have actually tried to talk to her darling boyfriend before she ran off all angry. Up until that moment, he was still clueless as to why that even happened.

Oliver remembered trying to cast tracking charms in hopes of finding the emotionally volatile lass. She was so frustrated though that she made herself counter such charms.

Oliver and Harry were really good friends and he even loved the lad's the idea of giving his beloved invisibility cloak to his girlfriend. He quickly ran through the millions of reasons why he loved her having that cloak. Some of the reasons brought up happy memories, some naughty, most just pained him.

He hated his star seeker then for a moment, for giving the witch his cloak because she ran off wearing it and with extremely powerful counter spells for his tracking charms. Oliver was devastated.

'Women!'

In his mental turmoil, he found himself sitting on the frosty edge of the town's fountain. His eyes scanned the crystalline water that hung in icicles from the marble ledges of the old fountain.

It was then that he saw her.

The same nice skin, the same way of walking, the same blush, the same ginger feline in her hands – it was her. Her hair wasn't bushy, like that in her early years in Hogwarts. The once-insane and untamable mane mellowed down to soft curls.

Oliver vocally cursed the impeccable timing.

Of all the days to show up completely out of the blue, fate picked that day and he particularly picked the best Gaelic curse to match the scenario.

"Oi, Hermione!"

Her head snapped up, even Crookshanks diverted his attention from the miniature pompom string ends of his owner's jacket to the familiar voice that called out to her. Immediately, the ginger cat sprang free from his owners grasp and plunged into the snow, leaving a cat-shaped hole on the white layer.

Oliver was halfway the distance between them when he felt something rubbing against his ankles. He laughed to see that it was his old pal. Picking up the shivering feline from the snow, he casted a warming charm on its blazing red fur.

"Looks like Crookshanks missed me," he smirked, petting the half kneazle on the head as it purred in delight.

Hermione was still rooted in her spot. She, too, hated fate's timing. She particularly hated the fact that Oliver Wood always had the ability to look dashing. He was wearing his old Gryffindor scarf, which of course, just had to match the one she was wearing.

Rather half-mindedly, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. Oliver cringed. "Accio-Crookshanks," she managed to say shakily. The poor cat was tugged out of Oliver's grasp with a magical pull. He, on the other hand, let out a sigh of relief.

"You shouldn't be pouncing on strangers…or…or womanizers, Crookshanks."

Oliver's head snapped at the comment. "Says the brightest witch of the century after she makes use of a completely screwed up conclusion to leave her boyfriend in the middle of his clan reunion, right after soaking his tuxedo with Uncle Pierre's wine."

"Well, we weren't technically together then, were we? After four bloody months of having to endure not being able to talk to you, I finally snapped, Oliver. I had to do something." Her chest was heaving as the unwanted memory replayed in her head. "Wonderful. I actually thought Merlin's timing was perfect when I was invited by your mum to the Wood clan reunion."

She fixed a stony glare at the brunet then. "And yes, it was wonderful, too, to see you, with another girl that night."

Oliver didn't know if he would laugh or get mad at the statement. "Hermione, she's Fionna."

She looked even more explosive. "What made you think that I was interested in knowing the name of that troll of a woman!"

He brought his gloved hands to his face in exasperation. It really was ridiculous. "You know what, if only you dropped the counter tracking charms, it wouldn't have taken me an entire year to finally tell you that you were jealous of my cousin the entire time."

Her anger faltered at the information but she held her stance. She didn't want to be gullible. He was taking steps closer to her, "'Mione, Fionna's my first cousin, Aunt Hilda's youngest. Besides, I still don't know why you, of all people, detail-conscious Hermione, didn't notice that she was also wearing a wedding band," he breathed, tired. "one that was the obvious partner of Jacob's, the guy you were conversing with about S.P.E.W. on Puddlemere's championship match."

He stopped right in front of her, raising an eyebrow. "You know, I feel rather exhausted that we're stuck in this stage again."

What ifs clouded Hermione's mind. _What if he's lying? What if he just wants to see if I'm gullible enough to believe him? What if Fionna's not really his cousin? What if…What if—_

"Mione, cut the what ifs." She wasn't shocked. She knew she wasn't thinking out loud. He knew her too well. Oliver memorized her like his favorite muggle movie, which was of course, Star Wars. Hermione was like a series of plot twists, sometimes unexpected and shocking but nevertheless, not hard to memorize. He knew her like the table of contents of Quidditch Through The Ages.

"What if? What if I'm not telling the truth?" Oliver turned monotonous and he was really tired of the situation. It was ridiculous, no matter how he flipped the scenario, it was still ridiculous.

"What if all your what ifs are wrong?"

"What if I hex all these bloody what ifs to oblivion? What if I tell you to stop it? What if I tell you that I still love the same woman who stood me up a year ago even if her mind is constantly storming with what ifs because of the bloody wizarding war and that git of a boyfriend she had before me, who is someone I still haven't killed because of the bloody wizarding rules that forbid killing?" His voice was now louder than usual. A few people in the square were staring.

She stopped in her train of what ifs. "What if -?" She managed to say.

He trapped her in a tight embrace, one that showed both his anger and his longing after the incident. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and he took in the same smell of her apple shampoo. Finding an exposed patch of skin, he planted a kiss before whispering, "What if I tell you that I don't care?"

Her figure stiffened and he felt it under his strong arms. Oliver smiled and said, "I think this whole thing is stupid. I think we should drop the what ifs. They're ridiculous, downright ridiculous."

She was still unmoving and Oliver sighed once again. "If you don't hug me back," he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, awfully near to her ear, "I'll have to feed Crookshanks with Hagrid's fatty treacle fudge cakes. And the cloak will be mine to play with."

For the first time in a year, he heard her laugh again – the same high-pitched one. "I'm sorry, Ollie." She pulled away to look straight in his eyes. "It really was ridiculous."

"Take my word even just for this time, Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire," he smiled, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. "flying failure, future Mrs. Wood," he smirked. "stop the what ifs. ESPECIALLY the negative ones."

"Gin, please stop the what ifs." Seamus pleaded as he looked exasperatedly at the carrot top beside him. "I don't want that to happen to us-" He gulped. "—and I know you won't run away – I know you'll use the bat bogey hex on me without even thinking twice."

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**Soooo, tell me what you have in mind.**

**:) **

**Did you like the idea of having Seam and Gin together? :O I did. :D**

**So here are my ships: (Olivione, Dramione, Edmione (Crossover EdmundxHermione), Nuna, Runa (idk what you call RolfxLuna, I'm sorry), Drapple, and SeamGin. Drapple and RonxChicken are so hot. **


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